Stormtroopers dressed in stark, white armor marched down the stoney corridors of the Death Star in lockstep fashion. Their blasters at the ready, they moved in perfect unison, for they were zealots, true believers in the God of Seven Faces. They bore seven-pointed stars upon their helmets, the insignia of their God and the Seven Galactic Kingdoms. They followed behind two of the most important men in the whole galaxy. The ever-imposing Darth Vader, with his dragon helm always sneering, walked just ahead of a thin, older gentleman. The man's bald head was neatly shaven, save for the sides, which connected with his short, greying beard. He wore the dark clothing of an officer of the Galactic Navy, and displayed proudly the colored squares signifying his ranks of Grand Moff and Galactic Warden. On the left side of his chest he wore a hand-shaped brooch, which a miniature red lightsaber. This man, Lord Tywin Lannister, held the whole Galaxy in the palm of his hand, as though he were some great lion playing with a small mouse.

The Great Lord and the Dark Lord walked into the Small Council Chamber within the Death Star, and the members of the Small Council quieted their already hushed whispers and plots. As Lord Tywin had envisioned it, this massive space station was not merely a weapon of mass destruction, but also a mobile command station wherein the Galactic King, and moreover, he himself and his House of Lannister could rule the galaxy uncontested, and totally secure in their power. Casterly Rock, and the golden core of Planet Naboo could not so compare to the gem that was his death star. The Tywin Doctrine would make sure that there was a lasting galactic peace, and would ensure the legacy of House Lannister. There was just the pesky issue of Stannis Baratheon, whose war effort from Cloud City had recently strengthened itself after a long decline following the Battle Over King's Landing.

"Good morning, my lords," greeted the fat eunuch Varys, standing and then bowing as the two lords made to sit down. Seated at the Small Council table were Grand Maester Pycelle, Master of Credits Lord Petyr Baelish, Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Jaime Lannister, Master of Laws Lord Kevan Lannister, and the quite fat High Septon. Most of the Small Council members were dressed in dark military clothing, save for Jaime, who was dressed in golden stormtrooper armor. The High Septon wore a crown of kyber crystals from the world of Ilum, and all seated were proudly displaying sigils and heraldry on their chests in the form of colored squares, brooches, or small patches.

Lord Tywin nodded at Varys, before sitting down. Darth Vader stood tall next to him, yet all in the room knew who the true power in the Seven Kingdoms was. Everyone was quiet as Lord Tywin quickly scanned through a few screens of information. He looked up at his younger brother Kevan Lannister, asking "what news out from Dragonstone. Vader failed to recapture the plans for the Death Star. Any progress on that front?"

Lord Kevan cleared his throat, "security footage within the Tantive IV revealed that the upstart usurper Daenerys Targaryen, who is now ready for questioning, loaded the information disk onto an astromech G2D2 unit. We have, as of yet, been unable to track its exact location. Obviously it landed down on this 'World of Winter.' The landing site has been determined after interrogating local wildlings. Tracks were found, but the exact path taken has yet to be determined. This model astromech is designed for winter weather, so it is most like still travelling by itself, or perhaps has been broken for scrap by wildlings."

Lord Tywin considered the information presented to him. "If the astromech has been damaged beyond repair, and at worst the information disk is in the hands of those nothing barbarians, then there is nothing to worry about. Still, I think it most prudent to make a greater effort in tracking down at least the remaining scrap parts of the unit."

Lord Petyr Baelish piped up, "aye, my lord. This weapon will give the Galactic Kingdoms the ability to exercise full control over the galaxy. Even the uncharted Dothraki Starfield could be under our control. If any of the rebel factions got their hands on the plans, who knows what sort of weakness in the weapon they could take advantage of. It is our only hope in securing total control. And of course, I secured most of the funding from the now-defunct Galactic Senate."

Lord Tywin eyed the small man with disdain. He considered him nothing more than an upstart, whom had married far above his station. This was true in a literal sense, as this man, "Littlefinger," had grown up on a low-gravity space station in orbit of Planet Vale, which was ruled by House Arryn. He had married the widow of Lord Jon Arryn, a noble man, good and true, whom had been instrumental in constructing the evil imperial regime which now ruled over the majority of the galaxy.

"The same Galactic Senate, which, if my old mind remembers correctly, you and your wife Lysa Arryn campaigned the hardest to dissolve. Funny, how they were the only entity stopping you from legally taking control over Harren's World, Lord Baelish," opined Grand Maester Pycelle, the doddering old fool. Baelish smiled, "yes, it is funny how things worked out that way, isn't it? And 'Grand Maester,' I would appreciate it if you titled me properly, in kind. I am, after all, the Grand Moff of the Trident and Vale Sectors."

Lord Tywin had enough of Lord Baelish. "Vader. Littlefinger appears tired. Send him to his bedchambers." Littlefinger got up, shouting "wait, my lords! Agh-" as Darth vader stepped forward, and raised his hand in a choking motion. He used the Force to tighten Lord Baelish's throat, raising him up in the air. "This paltry Death Star does not even begin to compare to the power of the dark side of the Force, 'Littlefinger.' I find your lack of faith in our empire... disturbing." Lord Baelish ceased his squirming, and finally passed out. Vader took him in his arms, and carried him out of the room.

"He really is a cunt, isn't he?" Lady Olenna Tyrell respectfully asked the High Septon.

Tywin smirked arrogantly, and Jaime hid his disgust at his father underneath his helmet. "Now, onto further matters..."

The trip from the Wall to Winterfell was relatively quick as three rode in a black, glass-domed, snowspeeder, but Jon found the silence between him and the redheaded wildling girl, Ygritte, to be painfully awkward. The white astromech, of course, added very little to the conversation. Ygritte was uncouth, loudmouthed, and unladylike. 'So is Arya, I suppose. But Arya is young, and has much to learn. Ygritte is a woman grown.' He glanced at her briefly. Despite her messy hair, and toothy grin, he found her to be quite attractive. 'I have my vows,' he thought to himself.

Ygritte smiled knowingly, "you know, Jon Snow, us Free Folk have been killin' Starks for hundreds of years now." Jon Snow continued staring ahead, "yes, and this is why we've built a giant wall to keep you lot out."

"Oh, you kneelers and ya wall! Always buildin' barriers and making up rules - it's you lot that can't handle a little bit o' freedom."

Jon considered her words, and responded "if having less freedom means a warm house, running water, and safety, then so be it."

"Oh? So ya mean to tell me you take no issue with the prison those Galactic Kings been building round ya father?" She motioned a circle, and then tightened her hand. "Your king's hand has got 'the Ned' by his balls. Seems hardly safe to me." Jon stared ahead sulkily. "Perhaps you've a point. Things have only been getting worse since the Clone Wars." Ygritte perked up, "please crow, tell me you've got clones at your castle. Never seen one for myself, only ever in pictures over the RavenNet." Jon hid his surprise at her apparent ability to both access and navigate the RavenNet. 'Where could this girl have possible learned how to read?'

Ygritte anticipated his question. "I can tell by ya gormless look that ya wonderin' how I use the RavenNet, aye?"

Jon fired back at her "are all of you thieving wildlings so disrespectful, or are you just one of a kind in that regard?"

Ygritte laughed, "ah, finally some emotion... Well, us thieving wildlings have a habit o' getting on you kneelers' bad sides. So much so that you slay us in scores, ya burned down Hardhome, and you've shut us out behind a wall to deal with that Darth Maul and his wights. So forgive me, 'm'Looord.' And to answer ya question, of course I'm special. I'm a spearwife in Mance Rayder's host. And I've been kissed by fire," she said as she mussed with her hair.

"If you don't hold your tongue, you'll end up kissed by blasterfire," Jon retorted. 'King Turncloak's host, huh-?' Ygritte leaned against him, her blue eyes just inches from his face as Jon swerved over a snowbank. Jon steadied the snowspeeder. "So am I to believe that you, a fine young man of the Night's Watch, sworn to defend the realms of men, would shoot a pretty little wildling girl?" Jon stared at her, "if I thought she was an enemy to the realm, then yes."

Ygritte considered his words. "Jon Snow, did you ever hear the tragedy of King Bael the Bard?" Jon glanced at her, and shook his head 'no.' "I have heard tales of many bards in my lifetime, but never of one by the name of Bael. Much less one who was king." Ygritte nodded, and responded, "didn't think so. You kneelers wouldn't tell each other this sort of story."

"It's a legend among the Free Folk. King Bael was King-Beyond-the-Wall, so clever, and so talented that he could even outsmart your high lords. Some Stark called him craven. So he vowed revenge on your house. He disguised himself as a bard, and snuck into Winterfell, where he sang day and night for the lord, and asked only for a blue winter rose in return. This, he was given. The following day, that Lord Stark's daughter was missing, with only a blue winter rose in her place. Lord Stark sent his men to search beyond the wall, but they failed. Then one day, she returned with a babe in her arms. She and Bael had hidden beneath the crypts of Winterfell. That babe became the Lord of Winterfell." This last part was said to Jon as though it should be terribly surprising.

"So you're saying that both of us have wildling blood running through our veins." Ygritte laughed, "now you're getting it, Jon Snow. Maybe you do know a thing or two afta' all. But I'm not quite done yet. I did say it was tragedy, didn't I?"

Jon Snow sighed, tiring of the girl's antics. "Aye, you did. Why is it a tragedy then?"

"Later on, Bael became King-Beyond-the-Wall, and had to face the Lord of Winterfell in combat. Bael cut off his own son's arm, and then his son cut of his own father's head. When the Lord of Winterfell brought back Bael's rotted head, the Lord's mother, Bael's old lover, threw herself from atop the highest tower. That, young crow, is why it is a tragedy." She moved her hand onto Jon's knees, whilst he stiffly attempted to ignore her touch.

"Glad to hear that you wildlings are not so savage to consider kingslaying to not be abomination," Jon responded brusquely.

"Aye, but you lot are all kinslayers. In a galaxy with countless alien races, us wildlings, and you so-called 'Northmen,' we are kin. We are both of us the blood of the First Men."

Jon sighed in annoyance, but could not deny that he found the wildling girl to be somewhat amusing.

Lord Eddard Stark was thus far having an incredibly stressful few days. He had been awoken early one morning by his wife Lady Catelyn Stark, with the utterly devastating news that the Galactic Senate had just been dissolved. The continued existence of the Galactic Senate, and keeping an uneasy and relative peace in the galaxy had been the life's work of his foster father, Lord Jon Arryn. He had only just weeks ago died under mysterious circumstances, when the appalling news broke that Jon's widow, Lysa Arryn, had remarried to Littlefinger, a cunning upstart who had once dueled with Lord Eddard's own brother. This was just the latest event in a long line events which proved to him and his wife that House Lannister and its lackeys were gearing themselves up to finally take full control of the galaxy.

This was before his wife had arrested a drunk Tyrion Lannister and one of his men, holding them up in the crypts of Winterfell as temporary prisoners. This news could not get out just now, what with the recent spotting of the King's Justice, a super star destroyer, over the planet's atmosphere. Since then there had been a higher numbers of stormtroopers parading through the castle. He could feel Lord Tywin's vice grip around his neck tightening every minute of every day.

The arrival of Jon Snow from the Wall was a welcome sight for poor Ned. The Lord of Winterfell had been discussing recent events with Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin atop a balcony overlooking the centermost courtyard of Winterfell. It was all he could do these days to watch his sons, and daughter Arya, practice archery. It was the only thing he could do to take his mind off the dangerous game being played up above them in the stars.

Lord Eddard stood, "Jon! It's good to see you my boy," he said, descending down the stairs, as Bran and Arya ran to hug Jon. Robb smiled at his brother, hugging him, and asking "how's the wall been treating you, miserable as they make it out to be?" Jon smiled while messing up Arya's hair. He looked up at Robb, and said "well. It is certainly very tall." That drew a small laugh from both Robb and Ned, who approached Jon, drawing him in, saying "give your lord father a hug!"

Jon briefly locked eyes with Lady Catelyn, who turned away from him, and walked away from the balcony. Ygritte had been following a few steps behind with Ghost, admiring the gigantic castle. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Though it was not as tall as the Wall, it was far more ornate, and complicated. The closest thing she had ever seen for reference was pictures on the RavenNet, and the burnt ruins of Hardhome.

Maester Luwin approached the small group, and glanced at both Ygritte and Ghost, before lightly hugging Jon. "So what brings you here to Winterfell, Jon?" He asked, perceptively. Perhaps his family members had been under the impression that he was merely shirking his duties for a short period of reprieve. Jon smiled at him, before glancing back the astromech, which beeped just once at Ned. The Lord of Winterfell's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ghost?"

Jon looked at his father with a confused expression on his face. "You've met this droid before?"

Ned turned to look at him, nostalgia and sadness coloring the expression on his face. He approached the droid before lightly rubbing his head. "Ghost here used to belong to my sister, your aunt Lyanna." Ghost beeped up at him. If cold, unfeeling machines had emotions, then Ghost was feeling happy at reuniting with one of his old friends.

"Who's the girl?" Arya asked while making a silly face in Jon's direction.

Jon looked slightly annoyed, and blushed just a bit, before answering "this wildling and her compatriots found Ghost out beyond the wall. They brought him to the wall to sell for scrap. It's a small bit of bartering we do with the wildlings. We do not consider them our primary enemies, but rather the dark side threats beyond the wall are our primary enemies. And well, he came preloaded with a small message..." Jon glanced at Ygritte, who reached down and pressed a button on Ghost's face.

A holographic projection of Daenerys Targaryen appeared on the floor, and began speaking.

"Lord Eddard Stark. Years ago you fought against my father and brother in the Clone Wars. Now I am begging you. There is an even greater existential threat here. House Lannister has usurped the Republic, House Targaryen, and will soon be set to replace House Baratheon as the Lords Paramount of the Galaxy. I was going to visit you in person, and in secret, but my operations working alongside my Unsullied exposed my location to that scum Vader. My ship is being harried, and my mission has failed. Have no doubt, I want to be queen, but only so that I may do good. If House Lannister is allowed uncontested rule over the galaxy, then we are all doomed. There is information vital to the survival of the rebellion loaded on to this droid. Please, I am begging you, utilize your resources to ensure the safe delivery of this droid, of Ghost, to Dragonstone. This is the Hour of the Wolf, our darkest hour. Help me, Eddard Stark, you're my only hope."

Ygritte smiled, as the importance of this message finally and totally dawned on her. With the credits she would receive for this droid, she should be able to finally end Darth Maul's conquests beyond the wall.

Lord Eddard frowned. It now became very obvious to him that time had, all of a sudden, become of the utmost importance. He glanced at a slightly crooked, white stone which was above the gatehouse leading into the courtyard. He raised his hand in its direction, and removed the stone by using the Force. He calmly guided down four metal cylinders, and held his eyes closed. His children, and the wildling girl all gaped with open mouths at him. They were totally unaware that he could use the Force. He picked the cylinders up off the ground. He coughed before raising his voice, "anyone that can hear me now, I hereby order you to evacuate the castle, and to aid others in organizing the evacuation!"

He looked at Bran, and ordered him to "go retrieve Cat, and meet us at the crypts!" Bran took off in his mother's direction.

"All of you, come with me! You too, wildling girl!" Eddard commanded.

Jon looked at him with confusion, before asking him, "what are we doing father?"

Lord Eddard Stark drew his blue lightsaber, Ice, before answering, "we're going on a rescue mission."

I thought about posting this in the crossovers section, but I figured it would probably do best here, and probably better here than in the Star Wars section.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated!